


This is Just My Warm-up

by Steampoweredwitch



Category: The Exorcist (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Everybody Lives, M/M, Relationship Negotiation, Shower Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 10:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17181143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Steampoweredwitch/pseuds/Steampoweredwitch
Summary: Marcus snoops through Tomas's laptop and discovers the videos that helped out him through Bible college. They try to adjust to life after the exorcism of the Rance family. Casey introduces Tomas to a special someone of hers. Marcus deals with his problems by running from them. Tomas needs a break. And a coffee. And an orgasm... Or four. Happy ending, may have a sequel.





	This is Just My Warm-up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissyLulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissyLulu/gifts).



> Contains some religious musings (theyre priests), but is not homophobic.
> 
> Written for commission by my lovey Bocchan

Tomas arrived home from the church wrung out and looking forward to a night in after such a long, traumatizing experience. The Rance exorcism had only been a few days ago, and he felt like death. He was just fiddling with his keys and coming out of the elevator when he heard… something. A distorted voice, moaning. Dread filled his bones. He did not want to deal with another demon so soon. He slipped his rosary around his fist and padded cautiously down the hall.

The voice grew louder as he came closer to his door. He peered into the slit between the door and the frame. The bolt was pulled back. Tomas slipped his keys between his knuckles like claws and threw the door open.

Suddenly, the voice didn’t sound so much demonic as… sexual. He groaned and closed the door behind him. In quick strides, he searched the apartment. Tomas rounded the corner, smack dab into - Marcus, sitting with legs spread on his couch.

Marcus jumped, eyes widening just a fraction before he recovered. Tomas’s laptop was open and playing a video on the coffee table, with a few open bags of M&Ms and his favorite nachos.

“You’re home early-” Marcus began, as a rough voice from the laptop moaned something too familiar. Tomas felt his stomach sink. He dashed forward and slapped the computer closed as a rather lewd moan came from the speakers.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, come on, Tomas. You really think I’m gonna dig through everything in the apartment and not snoop through your files, too?”

“Everyone in the building could hear that,” Tomas hissed, irritated by his friend’s laissez-faire attitude.

“Tell them it was an exorcism. We’re pretty famous for those right now. Straight-laced Tomas Ortega, no one is going to believe you ever watched a porno in your life, let alone-”

“Don’t! Don’t say it.”

“What?” Marcus leaned forward, elbows on his knees. His gaze cut through to Tomas’s core, forcing him to look away. “That you’re a porn star? And a rather talented one, at that?”

He swallowed his shame and shook his head, “We are  _ not _ talking about this.”

“The alternative is a demon throwing it in your face,” Marcus warned. “I was going to have a bit of a laugh at it, but it’s not half-bad. The real question is, why didn’t you tell me about it? You already broke your vows once with Jessica. This is hardly worse.”

Tomas scooped up the computer, jerking the charger out of the wall. “That was before I took my vows.”

Marcus grinned wide, dragged his tongue over his lip in ways that made Tomas want to pray very, very hard.

“Oh, I see. Tomas actually had some fun in his life before coming to God?”

Tomas winced. The bastard was having fun with this.

“I used my inheritance to pay for Olivia’s nursing school,” he said haltingly. “The money ran out before we could get me through seminary.”

“You do see the irony in that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. That’s why I stopped.”

Marcus stood up and closed in on him, boxing him in against the wall with both arms. “You know how good you look in this?”

His heart jumped up into his throat. He nearly dropped the computer as his grip went slack.

“Have you confessed your sins, Tomas?” Marcus purred in his ear. He shuddered and shoved the computer back into his chest.

“Keep the volume down,” he ordered, desperate for a quick escape. “The walls here are paper-thin, and I don’t want to hear any of  _ that  _ ever again.”

Marcus gave him this lazy, lopsided grin and let Tomas escape.

 

Tomas tried to shake it off. Marcus still shared his bed, after all. They’d both agreed that the couch was terrible for a night’s sleep, and Marcus had been relieved to have a proper surface to sleep on, even if he denied it. He was still thinking about it that night when Marcus came to bed in his t-shirt, and sleep pants borrowed from Tomas’s drawers. If Marcus knew he was awake, he didn’t acknowledge it. He just crawled in beside him and rolled so his back was to Tomas.

The following days didn’t get any easier. That was a part of his life that he hadn’t touched in a very long time. It brought back memories of poverty and internal conflict he had been happy to put behind him, no matter how… enjoyable it had been. It didn’t help that he was seeing Marcus in a whole new light. The man had a predatory charm, but he could also be so compassionate. Tomas found his thoughts wandering, and it wrenched at his chest. He just went through this with Jessica. He couldn’t do it again. But there was no use telling his heart that, let alone the rest of his body.

Marcus noticed his distance. Their conversations grew short and infrequent. Tomas had closed himself off, and he could see that it hurt Marcus, but he wasn’t brave enough to conquer it. Marcus, on the other hand, usually had a knack for dragging him into conversations he’d rather escape. This time, neither of them brought it up.

 

He came home for lunch, feeling cloistered in St Bridget’s expansive (expensive) halls. It wasn’t planned. He just needed some time away from the upper echelons of society. In the entryway, he tripped over a duffel bag… Marcus’s bag. Concern immediately fueled his alright tense limbs. Tomas closed the door and stepped over the bag.

“Marcus?”

He turned the corner into the kitchen. There Marcus was, sleeves pushed up past his elbows. Tomas sagged against the doorway. The relief was short-lived.

Marcus glanced his way, only a cursory thing, back down into the pan of leftovers he was frying. “Thought I’d have time to slip out before you got back.”

“What?”

Marcus flipped the contents of the pan. He saw eggs, bacon, and the baked vegetables from the night before. It smelled delicious, but Tomas felt quite sick.

“There are other jobs that need doing,” Marcus said shortly, still avoiding his gaze. “I won’t step on your toes much more.”

“You’re not stepping on anything,” Tomas blurted. “You can’t just-”

“Well, apparently I can.” Marcus set down the spatula and flicked the burner off. He crossed the room to Tomas. “You’re not ready to be an exorcist, Tomas. You’d be a liability in the field. If you can’t talk about your past, especially one silly little video-”

“Wait, hang on… How many of those did you find?”

“Just the one. Does it matter how many there are? It’s all the same to God.”

Tomas looked down at the floor between their shoes, only for Marcus to tip his chin back up.

“Tomas… We need to be able to talk to each other if we’re going to be partners. Even about the bad and the embarrassing. And that video was probably some of the best damn porn I’ve ever seen in my life - not that I’ve ever indulged,” Marcus threw in a touch of sarcasm at that last one, giving him a bit of a sly grin.

He sighed heavily and rubbed his eyes. “You’ve probably broken more hearts than me.”

Marcus’s grin grew just a little wider. “Yeah? How’d you figure?”

Tomas shook his head and met his gaze very seriously. “Stay,” he insisted, “Stay, or take me with you. I don’t care. I’ll do what it takes.”

The room went very quiet aside from the skillet hissing now and then. The smell of bacon made his stomach growl. Finally, Marcus nodded, clapping him on the shoulder. “But we have to talk about this. I’m not having some demon whip it out on us when somebody’s immortal soul is on the line.”

Tomas leaned in and dropped his forehead into Marcus’s shoulder. “I’m never going to live this down.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ve already told you, it was good.”

He hummed, “Yes, that one was. Others - well, I was learning. It’s embarrassing to think those are still out there. I used to worry every day after I took my vows that someone would find them.”

Marcus chuckled. “Now when you say others-”

He groaned and stepped back, “Hang on.”

That shot Marcus’s eyebrows up, but he let Tomas slip past him and dig the computer out from a panel in the wall. He’d stored it there to keep Marcus from being nosy.

Tomas set up the computer and opened an incognito browser. He typed in an old, familiar web address, and dropped the computer’s volume to zero before logging in.

Marcus peered over his shoulder. Tomas batted him away. He didn’t stay away. A mischievous smile crossed Marcus’s lips as he sidled up behind Tomas and looped loose arms around his waist.

“Stop that,” Tomas said, “I can feel that smug smirk of yours.”

“Oh can you?” Marcus leaned up against his back. Tomas went weak in the knees as lips brushed the back of his ear. “I’ll just have to try harder then, dove.”

Tomas swallowed and went to his archives, and set it to infinite scroll. Two and a half years of work, from solo to threesomes and one holiday special orgy, with more hours lost to private shows he never saved. He gestured at the screen, tense. “This… is how I paid for bible college. And  _ yes,  _ I see the irony. I still get income from them, too.”

“Get out,” Marcus grinned.

“Thankfully, it gets deposited under my working name. The Church doesn’t know about this. Even if they did, I don’t think they’d take issue with it anymore. I still haven’t opened that account in - maybe six years now?”

Marcus hummed against his back, and Tomas was beginning to have second thoughts about showing Marcus any of this. It was all too easy to picture Marcus pushing into him, bending him over the counter…

He exited the website quickly.

“So anyway. That is my adventure in life before the Church. I thought you’d be less understanding of it.”

“We all have our histories,” Marcus shrugged, still flush against his back. “Remember the time you found me drunk in the pew? We live our lives for God as best we can, confess, exorcise the enemy, and pray we go home at the end of the day.”

Relieved, he closed the computer again. “Right… I need to be getting back to St Bridget’s…”

Tomas turned, letting Marcus cinch his hands together behind his waist. Good God, Tomas wanted to kiss him. He’d resisted temptation before, but this didn’t seem so much like a temptation as a  _ need _ deep in his bones, and he could swear he saw Marcus struggling with it, too.

“Will you be here when I come home?” he asked softly, hopefully.

“Yes, love,” Marcus breathed.

He took half the breakfast hash back to the church with him and ate in his office, feeling relieved when Marcus sent him a picture of an empty egg carton on the counter with a big frowny face drawn onto it in marker.

 

Things returned to normal, but - there was a charge to the air. It wasn’t the same tension from before, where they couldn’t talk to each other. No, they did plenty of that. They could move around each other in the kitchen with practiced ease, helping make each other’s breakfasts and coffees. Marcus helped the St. Anthony’s congregation ease into their new parishes during the day, and took him to White Sox games or pubs in the evening. Tomas wondered where he got the money, but all Marcus would say cryptically was that “the Lord provides.”

He felt Marcus’s eyes on him more and more often. The heat of them burned into the back of his neck, raised goosebumps over his skin. Marcus didn’t make any moves on him, but the way he sometimes lingered, especially when they were alone… He couldn’t help thinking that this was going to lead to some colossal catastrophe for them both someday.

Someday, it turned out, was the day of the St Bridget’s charity gala. Marcus had claimed it would bore his socks off, so Tomas left him at home - only to have to run back, realizing that he’d forgotten one of the items up for auction that night. He didn’t bother to knock on the door. It would only be in and out in a minute.

Only Marcus was in the bedroom. In the bed. Their bed.

Tomas got the door halfway open, and then slammed it shut again, heart pounding. Marcus was -

He’d tried not to look, but the image was already seared into his brain. He cleared his throat and knocked this time. He didn’t hear a response but a soft, breathy moan. Tomas knocked harder.

This time, there was a shuffle of fabric, and a cough. Then, Marcus called back, “Um - yeah, come in.”

He cracked the door and peeked. Marcus had pulled a shirt over his head, but he still had one headphone in his ear, and the blankets draped over his hip just so. Tomas swallowed and put on his best neutral face. Marcus’s was tighter, but Tomas could still see the tight set of his jaw and shoulders, the flush in his features.

“Back so soon?” Marcus cracked with that lopsided grin of his that made Tomas feel hot under the collar himself.

Tomas ducked into the room, and opened a drawer, rifling through it for the auction certificate. “Just forgot a - thing. You, ah, haven’t seen an envelope around, have you? Beige, calligraphy, black wax seal?”

Marcus sounded strained as he answered, doing his best to casually cock his knee up as a barrier between them, “Um - try the living room table. I thought I saw it there.”

He took the out where he could get it and practically fled, leaving the drawer open and hanging out of the dresser. As he thunked the door shut, he heard the drawer and all of its contents fall and scatter.

Marcus sighed from the bedroom. “I’ve got this. Go, do your thing.”

Tomas searched the living room. No envelope. And no getting the sight of Marcus, arched back in bed, with his fist around his proud, gorgeous... He scrubbed a hand over his face, but the image remained. He made for the kitchen next.

He had his head under the sink when he heard footsteps. Marcus nudged him with his toes. Tomas checked that he was wearing something before pulling out. It did not help that those were his sweats, but as least he wasn’t naked this time. An envelope was presented down to him.

“Oh, thank you! Where was it?”

“Table, just like I said,” Marcus gave him a quick smile as Tomas snatched the envelope.

“I could have sworn… Thank you. If I’m not back by ten, send back up.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’ll save you from the vultures.”

Tomas gave him a jerky nod and reached for Marcus. He clasped his shoulder, and held for a few minutes. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, as if he hadn’t seen his fill just now.

  
  


The fundraiser required very little of Tomas. He shook hands, gave a couple of speeches, waxed eloquent about why the parishioners and patrons of St Bridget’s needed to think outside of their tax bracket, and then all that he had to do was be handsome. Tomas smiled, and listened to gossip and trivial stories. After nearly two months working on his first exorcism, it was a relief to feel normal, to not be vigilant all day. Unfortunately, that was also how his thoughts wandered back to Marcus and the glimpse behind the curtain from earlier.

It wasn’t a deliberate act of self-sabotage that he finished off the eggs that night out of stress, but it may as well have been. Tomas wanted to clear the air between them, but Marcus hadn’t been home. The eggs he cooked after feeling too sentimental. They turned out rubbery. He just scraped them out and went to bed. It was cold without Marcus in the apartment, but the bedding smelled like him. Tomas tucked an extra pillow against his chest and drifted off. It was two days before he heard from Marcus again.

  
  


The shower curtain whipped open without warning. Tomas yelped and seized the curtain from Marcus’s hand.

“Tomas - quit your screaming - where’s your letter opener.”

“What? I don’t have one. Why would a letter opener be worth barging in on me?”

“Nevermind that. Are you sure you don’t have-?

“Yes!”

“Damn. Alright, I’m off.”

“Seriously?!”

“Gotta go!”

Tomas clenched his jaw… then rinsed off quickly and flicked the shower off. “What do you even need a letter opener for? Marcus, wait for me!”

 

One bizarre, antique ritual later, and Tomas and Marcus were staggering home covered in ooze. Tomas’s interrupted shower felt years ago. He didn’t even arguing when Marcus took up the bathroom for himself for close to an hour. He just accepted fate, stripped, and washed up in the kitchen sink.

With the extra time to his thoughts, he went to the bedroom and unwedged a box from underneath the wobbly leg of his bed. It was made of scrap wood, but it was holding relatively well together. He was grateful for the bed not rocking at night. All his money and labour went into the church, so he hadn’t replaced the frame even though it was long overdue. That was his excuse for leaving it unseen for so long. Tomas flipped the lid open and looked over the contents.

College memories swept over him. He had been a young, insecure bisexual in a foreign country, hiding from his duties to his family. College had been where he got into sex work for a time, but it had also been where he had connected strongly with the message of God. Ministry had always been his destiny, but he had made that decision to commit, even without any signs or miracles firsthand from the creator, that he was going to be a man of God. He hadn’t touched anything in this box since taking his vows. The condoms were all expired, and the lube likely was too, but the toys… he remembered those. So did his body. Just looking over them brought ghost sensations of pleasure, tingles up his spine.

He snapped it closed again and shoved it under the bed without replacing it beneath the wonky leg. He wasn’t ready to face all of that yet.

 

Casey Rance knocked on his office door as the first snowstorm of the year hit Chicago. She was still gunshy, but she met his gaze more easily now. Holding her hand was a tall girl with a long waistcoat on. Casey gave him one of her warmer smiles. It was still watery, tinged with grief, but it was better.

“Casey!” He stood up and rounded his desk to hug her. She folded into his arms and squeezed him tightly.

“It’s good to see you, Father Tomas,” she sighed.

Tomas beamed for her as they pulled back and he held his hand out to her friend. “Tomas Ortega,” he introduced himself.

The girl shook his hand. She had an undercut with patterns shaved into the sides of her hair, and a piercing at the center of her lower lip. “I’m Dakota. Case and I met when she was house hunting in Spokane.”

Tomas brought them in to sit and busied himself putting the kettle on. “You must be frozen from that storm! Can I get you something? Tea, cocoa, coffee? It’s all instant, so my apologies, uhm.”

Casey laughed, and it was so sunny, she lit up the room. Tomas relaxed again.

“I’d love something. Peppermint?”

“Can I be a dick and ask for a mocha?” Dakota winced at herself with a grin, “Can I even say dick here?”

Tomas chuckled and let Casey tell her, “It’s okay, Dax. Father Tomas is cool.”

“So you met in Spokane. Is that where your family settled down, Casey?”

“Well, no. We aren’t supposed to tell anyone yet, but it’s not too far. At least it isn’t Canada.” She bit her lip. “We’re - actually helping Dax move in with us next week.”

Tomas looked up from mixing instant coffee and cocoa powder. They still had their hands clutched tightly together. Tomas made sure to smile even wider than before. “Casey, that’s wonderful!”

Dakota shifted in her chair. “You’re sure you’re - cool?”

Casey gave Dakota’s hand a squeeze.

Tomas leaned back against the counter as the kettle bubbled and the wind outside howled. “Of course I am, Dakota. As a matter of fact, I happen to have a little first hand experience in what you’re going through.”

Both of their eyes lit up. Dakota leaned forward, “Shut up, really? Are you gay, or...?”

“Bisexual,” he confirmed. A hidden smile crossed Casey’s mouth that he chose not to comment on. “I’ve been through just about every discrimination a kid can. I know what it means to not have people love and accept you. But you will always have support from me.”

“He’s also not the only bi priest I know,” Casey popped up. Tomas smiled tightly. “There’s good people here. There will be in our new place, too.”

“When you feel safe enough to talk about where you’re going, I can help you find a parish where you’ll feel safe,” Tomas promised.

Dakota looked ready to bawl. She bit her lip. “My parents go to Christ Our Hope in Seattle. They… when they found out I was… I was actually on the streets for a few nights before I called Casey. Angela and Henry said I could come live with them.”

Tomas put his hand on Dakota’s shoulder. “Angela and Henry are wonderful parents. They’ll take good care of you. And you’ll always have friends in Chicago.”

The kettle began to hum. He twisted around for it as the hum mounted into a screech.

“How are you adjusting, Casey,” he asked as he poured their drinks...

 

He dialled Marcus after the girls bundled up and left. He needed to hear his voice and talk with someone about Casey and Dakota, and the feelings their visit brought up for him. No answer came. Tomas sat back in his chair, mulling their conversation over. The Church might have condemned many of the reassurances he gave them, but with so much of the Church compromised, he wasn’t sure what to think anymore about doctrine save what felt right. When moping left him feeling stagnant, he pulled on his jacket.

Tomas found Marcus in the gardens of Mother Bernadette’s cloister. The ground was icy and unyielding, but there he was with a spade in hand, digging at the dirt. Tomas’s boots crunched on the layer of frost and fresh snow. Marcus didn’t look up as he approached, either uncaring or perfectly aware of who was coming up behind him. For a moment, Tomas stood a ways back, watching Marcus work.

“You can either piss off or come help me work,” Marcus eventually said.

Tomas found the now-snowed-in box of tools and pulled out a spare trowel. Marcus grunted something approving and kept digging up frozen earth. He took an untouched flower bed and dug in.

“What exactly are we doing?”

“The earth needs turning,” Marcus explain, gruff and distant. “Otherwise, in spring, these bushes here,” he gestured with his spade, “will eat up all the space the new flowers will need in the spring. It should have been done in the summer, but the Sisters…”

Marcus choked on his words. “The Sisters…”

Tomas scooted closer. Wordlessly, he dug into the patch beside Marcus’s freshly turned chunks. Many were more ice than dirt, but he understood. Logic didn’t have a say in grief, and they hadn’t really taken the time before. Marcus curled one gloved hand over his shoulder and went back to digging.

Tomas’s knees froze quickly. He pushed through it at first, but he kept an eye on Marcus in his little black beanie, checking for signs of frostbite.

“Casey Rance came to the church today,” he said when the silence was broken by carolers strolling the sidewalk on the other side of the street. “She brought along a date, a girl named Dax. I told them we would help them settle into a new parish where they could be out of the closet.”

“I’ve got a job,” Marcus cut in.

Tomas fell silent.

“Could be months before I’m finished, and even then possessions are happening faster and faster, and the diocese hasn’t granted a single exorcism all year. I’ve been away too long.

“I thought giving you a decent reason would make it easier for you, but you just kept - drawing me back, no matter what I told myself.”

Tomas shoved his trowel into the flowerbed and set both hands on his shoulders, forcing Marcus to turn and look at him. “You’re being absurd. Why would you go alone? You know we work better as a team.”

“You’re a liability.”

“You said that before,” Tomas countered. “I talked to you about my history, didn’t I? I did everything you ask of me, and you’re  _ still _ pushing me-”

Marcus got up in a huff. Tomas chased after him and blocked his path. “Why are you being so stubborn about this? Why are you running off at every drop of a hat all of a sudden? Tell me the truth, Marcus.”

“You’re a liability to me!” Marcus’s shoulders bunched up as he raises his voice… and quieted once more. “They will use you against me. Because you’re my weakness. My soft spot. More than anyone else in my life, Tomas, they will use you.”

Tomas stuttered. The rug had been whipped out from under him, and he was left floating adrift. Marcus watched him crumple in, and stepped into his space again. He pulled Tomas into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

“Stay,” Tomas said into his ear, holding on tight. “Stay, or let me come with you.”

Marcus kissed his temple so softly and answered, “No.”

He didn’t say anything about Tomas’s into his leather jacket, or the cold, or the snow, but all too soon, he was pushing Tomas back with a grim expression. “This is bigger than us. We can’t let them win.”

Tomas reached up and framed Marcus’s cheek. He thought Marcus might meet him halfway. Instead, Marcus closed his fingers around his hand and pulled it away from his skin.

“Keep safe, Tomas,” he murmured.

Tomas nodded, deflated. He withdrew his hand and walked out of the garden past the belladonna bushes.

  
  


Winter passed. Nothing from Marcus.

 

Spring passed. Nothing from Marcus. Tomas purchased a few new items for his toy box on impulse.

 

Summer came in with a week of rolling thunderstorms from the south eastern coast. Tomas wrote letters that wouldn’t be sent. Wouldn’t be read.

Marcus called.

Tomas was arranging a series of pots and bowls below the leaks in the kitchen roof when his phone rang. He rushed to the receiver, but it was too late to catch the call. He listened to the answering machine pick up to a northeastern English accent that sent shivers down his spine.

“I don’t expect you’re thrilled to hear from me after all I’ve done,” Marcus said into the phone. “Running off like that, and all. I wouldn’t blame you either. But, um. I’m thinking of you. It’s been rough. Really rough, actually-”

Tomas picked up the phone. “Marcus!”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Marcus, where are you?”

“Nice to see you too, mate.”

Tomas couldn’t help chuckling into the phone. He licked his lips and turned around so he could lean on the wall. “Come home,” he said softly.

A sharp intake of breath… “You still want me around?”

“Come home,” Tomas insisted. “Please. Even - come visit, come - pick my locks and dig through my things, and eat everything in our fridge, just… Marcus.”

“...I’ll see you, Tomas.”

“That’s not an answer,” he growled.

“Yeah, but it’s the best I have right now.”

Tomas sat on the couch and laid back. “Try for me.”

“Okay.”

  
  


The storms left the city sweltering long after the rain cleared out. Tomas repaired the ceiling - of St Bridget’s. His own remained a leaky mess.

He went to a hardware store for supplies even though he had people to do this for him now. While he was there, he picked up an item just for himself. It cost a whole four dollars. He kept it in his jacket pocket, over his heart. At home, he sticks a coil of pink easter ribbons on the ring and hangs it off the coat hanger in the entryway. Then, he went to the bedroom and pulled out his toy box.

The new collection included fresh lube, a prostate massager he used to love, and some new trinkets he’d never tested before. Buying them had been easier than expected. No paparazzi shadowed him these days with Casey moved out to New Hampshire (she’d sent a post card for Father’s Day. He thought it was the sweetest). He took the familiar items and his old warm-up toy from the box, finally giving in to the need for some release.

The front door unlocked.

Tomas shoved everything back into the box and left it on the bed in his hurry to get his jeans buttoned back up and get to the front door.

Marcus dropped his duffel bag by the coat hangers and set his cassette player beside the answering machine. Tomas only gawked at first. There were lockpicks in Marcus’s hand. He bolts across the room and throws himself into Marcus’s arms. “I knew you’d come back.”

“I didn’t give you much proof, mind you,” Marcus deflected.

“I had faith,” he corrected.

Marcus sank into him, arms going around his waist.

“How long are you here for?”

“Few days, unless this case turns out to be nothing. There’ve been a few false alarms.”

“How many?” He stood back on flat feet, looking Marcus over in his familiar green long sleeve that it was definitely too hot to be wearing and his scruffy blue jeans. He’s trimmed his mustache recently. It’s extra crispy.

“... Seven.”

“Seven.”

“Father Bennett has gone to ground. He couldn’t vet them as well as usual for me.”

Tomas chose to take that at face value. “Well then. You’re cooking tonight. Mind the pots and pans on the floor. They’re in a very intricate balancing act, and cannot be disturbed.” He took the keys off the coat hanger and presented them to Marcus without preamble, “And there’s also these. So you don’t have to break in every time.”

Marcus looked up at him with warm, glossy eyes. He closed his fist around the keys and folded him into his arms again. “I’m so sorry.”

  
  


Tomas expected it to be harder, but they fell into old habits again. Marcus danced around both him and the growing pan collection on the kitchen floor. Tomas enlisted him around the parish for visitation days. He hated how quickly bliss swept over him when there was no guarantee that Marcus wouldn’t up and leave again. Finally, he sent Marcus off to the kitchen with a very complex list of ingredients, hoping to have some time to himself.

Opening the lubricant sounded loud, even with the shower running. He winced but coated his fingertip and reached down between his legs. Even just circling his entrance and rubbing his inner thighs, Tomas began to relax. He pushed against his entrance in gentle thrusts more meant to stimulate than penetrate at first. He took the old favourite, a long, relatively slender plug, and replaced his finger. It was only a fraction bigger, but he wanted it to ache a little. Besides, Marcus was cooking, and there was no-

“Tomas!” The curtain whipped open.

Tomas dropped the plug. The prostate massager slipped into the tub. He rolled over as it started vibrating incessantly and tried to turn it off. It cycled through two or three settings before he got it right. Marcus was still gawking.

He stood up and hid behind the shoulder curtain. “Do you mind? What is it?”

Marcus swallowed, flushed. “I need your keys.”

“You have your own. You never use them.”

“I was going to drive to the store.”

“For what? What is so life or death, Marcus?” he snapped, self-conscious.

“...Eggs. Again. I know that toy...”

Tomas groaned. “Out.”

“You’re beautiful,” Marcus breathed. They both froze, inches from one another. “I should leave...”

Tomas grabs him and reels him in. He kisses Marcus hard, the curtain falling away. Marcus makes the sweetest moan of relief under his tongue. Enough waiting. When Marcus slipped his arms around him, Tomas hauled him into the shower. His shirt hit the tub floor in a clumsy heap.

“Shoes’re leather,” Marcus panted under the assault of his mouth. Tomas dropped to his knees. “You - what in blazes…” He kissed Marcus’s hardening cock through his jeans and roughly untied his shoes. Marcus was a mess trying to undo his belt. “ _ Ahh~ _ ”

The shoes were tossed out of the tub, and he started in on those jeans. They bunched around Marcus’s ankles as he nipped the inside of Marcus’s thigh. He  _ lives _ for those sounds now. It’s been years since he did this, but he knows he’s never wanted anyone more in his life.

“Tomas!”

Thrumming with energy, Tomas tossee all but the undergarments out of the tub, posed like he was in some kind of POV video. He looked up from under thick eyelashes and watched Marcus’s adam’s apple bob in response.

“Not much to look at,” Marcus apologized.

“Oh my sweet Marcus, no. You’re a feast. Everything I could ever want.” He ran his fingers up Marcus’s thighs to his ribs, tracing funny patterns on his skin to watch him shudder and buck before giving him any satisfaction. “Forty years of chastity, you said?”

Marcus groaned and hid behind his hands, shaking as Tomas rubbed behind his balls. “More-or or-or-or less,  _ FUCK! _ ”

Tomas pressed his mouth to Marcus’s swelling bulge and moaned against him. Marcus shouted, head smacking back against the wall.

“Should I bless the water to make sure you’re not some demon, come to seduce me away from your vows?”

Tomas gave him a dry laugh. “We need to separate this from religion, I think, but if it will put your mind at ease, my dear, you’re welcome to try,” he teased, tugging Marcus’s briefs down one tiny pull at a time.

“Just how often do you plan on doing this?” Marcus asked, and then yelped as Tomas took the head of his cock into his mouth.

Tomas didn't have an answer for him. Keeping his mouth full was a good way to avoid the subject for now, and Marcus tasted  _ good _ . It was only skin, but it was something he loved, something he'd missed. He swallowed around Marcus's crown, his tongue mapping every vein and ridge and smooth surface it could find. He wanted to learn what made Marcus tick, take him apart over and over. Marcus didn't sound opposed to doing this again either…

“Hang - hang on, love,” Marcus whined, tugging on his hair. Tomas moaned and left Marcus pull him back. He watched Marcus grab himself by the base and squeeze, shudders running through him. “I'm - not the most practiced here…”

He flicked the faucets off. Marcus's breathing sounded that much louder in the resulting silence. Tomas sat up on his knees and kissed his belly. Water sloshed around his thighs now. He pet Marcus's skin reassuringly. “I don't mind short,” he promised, sucking at a place under his ribs over a beautiful tattoo. “If you're ready, you're ready.”

Marcus licked his lips and tugged his hair again. Tomas leaned back with the pull, mouth agape in pleasure. “You wouldn't be disappointed...? A fifty year-old virgin who didn't give you anything back?”

Tomas stood up. He slipped his arms around Marcus's waist and gave him a deep, slow kiss until the tension bled away. “You have never disappointed me,” he says fiercely. “You've given me so much. I love doing this, but I wouldn't be here if it was anyone else… not even Jessica.”

That seemed to sink in. Marcus released himself and cupped Tomas's face in two shaky hands. This time, he stole the kisses, he pulled Tomas closer, he was the one making experimental thrusts against Tomas's belly. Tomas followed his pace, murmuring sweet encouragement. He sighed as Marcus explored his chest.

“You really like this?” Marcus checked again. Tomas nodded. “Because I  _ really  _ like you on your knees…”

Tomas brushed over his jaw, kissing down his throat. An old confidence swept over him, from when he was the best performer out there, and he was untouchable.“How do you want me, my lion? Bent over the tub so you can take me? Mouth open, waiting for you to paint my face?”

Marcus moaned, bucked against him. Tomas grinned and slid back down into the water. Fingers traced his features as he knelt. “Sounds like we have a winner…”

This time, Tomas leaned back. His abs pulled taut at this angle, putting all his best features but his ass on display. He played with himself idly. Marcus averted his eyes, cheeks scarlet. “Can you… that toy you had before… Show me,” he asked.

Tomas fished the dildo from the other end of the bath and held it up. “This? On me or on you?”

“You, you,” Marcus said quickly. He stroked himself more confidently, readjusting how his shoulders were braced against the wall. Tomas rose up and repositioned the dildo against his entrance. He held Marcus's gaze as he breached himself. His walls parted hungrily around it, trying to suck him deeper. He teased himself, using only the tip at first… then sat back until the entire toy was embedded in his hole.

“That's all of it~”

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Marcus whined. “And that doesn't hurt?”

“I could make it, if I wanted to,” Tomas says. He pulls up and thrusts back down, then again, “but I prefer like this.”

Marcus fisted himself properly and he jerked himself off in hurried stroke. Those hooded blue eyes never left his form. Tomas rode in time with Marcus, but as he reached for his own dick, he took it slower, drawing his own pleasure out. “Are you close?”

Marcus groaned instead of answering. His hips jumped when the sparks hit him hardest. Tomas watched his balls tighten eagerly. “Come paint me, then,” he urged. He needed this now. He was close himself, but he didn't want to, not until Marcus-

Marcus went rigid, cock spurting. Thick, salty ropes of come splashed over his face and chest. Marcus bit his hand to keep his moans contained. Tomas arched back, riding faster. He licked his lips for a good taste, stroking himself with purpose. As Marcus emptied the last of his ejaculation, he closed his eyes, entirely focused on hitting that same peak.

He heard Marcus kneel down in front of him. Fingers brushed his hip and circled behind him. “Let me,” that husky Northern accent said firmly in his ear. Tomas happily wrapped his arms around Marcus's shoulders and Marcus took over both his cock and his dildo. Nothing was ever as efficient as his own hands, but Marcus was  _ good _ , and a quick study. Tomas showed him the angle to thrust at, and he kept it there.

Soon, Tomas was hovering on the edge, making stunted, sharp cries into his cheek. He wrapped himself tighter around Marcus. “I've got you, sweetheart,” Marcus purred, sounding much more confident than before. “So beautiful like this… I'm so glad I found that video. You're a vision. I haven't been able to think of anything but you for weeks.”

Tomas didn't think of how many times Marcus had run off recently, or demons or morals. Nothing beyond their bodies together. He let ecstasy take him and comes all over Marcus's hand, milky white drifting into the cooling bath water.

 

“Tomas,” Marcus murmured into his shoulder. Tomas rolled over to face him. Marcus had two modes when self-doubting: avoiding eye contact entirely, or boring into your soul. He was going with the latter this time. “... What we did in there, were you okay with all of it? You do have vows.”

Tomas reached up, and Marcus kissed his fingers. “The bigger question is are  _ you _ alright with what we did,” he said gently.  “I loved it. And if you want to do it again, I would love to. If it wasn't okay, I'll help you fix it. I'm not going anywhere.”

Marcus seemed comforted by that. He pressed on, “As for my vows, you're starting to influence me with your Bible redactions. It's not a mortal sin. I also mix cotton and wool, and I certainly don't plan to quit bacon. I'm not about to cherry pick which sins I feel guilty over.” He leaned forward and kissed Marcus's forehead. Marcus tucked himself under Tomas's chin and hid there.

“I don't want to come between you and God,” came the quiet, self-deprecating voice.

Tomas strokes through his hair. “It's a little narcissistic to think you could stop Him if you wanted to,” he teases. It earns him a relieved huff of air against his collarbone.

“I really have been a bad influence,” Marcus joked. He squeezed Tomas around his middle. “Thank you.”

Tomas bent and kissed the top of his head. “Sleep.”

  
  


Marcus woke him a few hours later with whispered, shaky confessions of thoughts he had of Tomas. Dirty thoughts that made Tomas feel powerful and adored. Tomas led Marcus through the paces, and then made him top. His thighs had more of a workout in that shower than he'd been ready for. It was good to lay back and let Marcus learn. He kissed him hard when Marcus came inside him… then groaned when one of the disposable cell phones rang.

Tomas let his second erection of the night die on its own and reeled Marcus back into bed as he went through the phone call with short, one-word answers, increasingly concerned. When he hung up, there was a moment of silence. Marcus bent down and kissed him languidly.

“I have to go. For real this time. Bennett got a call up in Idaho.” Tomas strokes his cheek and sighed..  but Marcus continued, “The demon sounds like the usual rabble, but pretty tough for a solo run… I could use an apprentice.”

Tomas broke into a grin.

“It's not an easy life,” Marcus warned. “Or a fun one. Your mattress is wherever you keel over, all your life in a duffle bag. Sometimes a squad car.”

He kissed the explanations away until Marcus hummed and gave in. “So,” Tomas asked, feeling sore and used and all kinds of loved, “when are we leaving?”


End file.
